I have written a lot on this, after reading a lot of evidence and credible testimony that point away from the famous suspect Lee Harvey Oswald, and toward Howard Hunt and CIA for the horrible murder and its sad cover-up fifty-four years ago.

New York defense attorney Mark Lane took up the defense for the suspect Oswald after Lee was murdered by Jack Ruby on November 24th, Ruby infiltrating a garage full of Dallas Police officers to strike.

Lane did what any decent attorney would have done—he broke down the prosecution’s case, poked multiple holes in it. To me, Oswald would have been acquitted of the crime ten times out of ten in a just court.

Hence the murder of Oswald, and the subsequent “Warren Commission,” a convenient prosecution of Oswald without a defense—which allowed Lane to testify, but not to represent the suspect, call witnesses and cross-examine witnesses for the prosecution. This being convenient to CIA, who planted the Kennedy-fired Allen Dulles on the “commission” to make sure no investigating got too close to the truth.

Our country has a Bill of Rights. In them is the Fifth Amendment assuring that no American citizen “be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” And a Sixth Amendment:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.

Lee Harvey Oswald was denied his fifth and sixth amendment rights—first by being murdered.

And then, when his mother, Marguerite Oswald, hired Mark Lane to defend her son before the fraud Warren Commission, the deceased Lee was denied his rights a second time when the “commission” denied Lane’s plea to represent Oswald in the proceedings—eventually citing that Lee’s wife had already denied her husband’s right to counsel.

The Warren Commission was part of the CIA cover-up.

The murder of Oswald was part of the CIA cover-up.

The Commission and biased media outlets denying the deceased Oswald to be represented and defended by Mark Lane was part of a CIA cover-up.

Who locks up documents? Calls them “Classified”—the American Government word for omerta? Who has admitted to an assassination program? A disinformation program? To meddling in Central American, Iranian, Korean, Vietnamese politics?

Who hated Fidel Castro? Communism? John F. Kennedy for not offering air support to the CIA’s botched Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961?

Who heard Kennedy say he was going to dismantle the CIA?

Who hated Kennedy for firing the godfather of American spies, CIA’s big boss Allen Dulles?

Who hated Kennedy for firing Dulles’ right hand man, the brother of Dallas mayor Earle Cabell?

Who was threatened when Kennedy made it known his intention to pull American forces out of Vietnam?

Who was mad that Kennedy kept getting in the way of CIA’s efforts to kill Castro, and retake Cuba for American capitalist interests?

***

The mob hated Kennedy and his brother Bobby for going after them and for allowing Castro to kick them out of the Havana hotel/casino scene.

The racist south hated Kennedy for his overtures to Martin Luther King and the Desegregationists on the move in 1963.

But then there was Howard Hunt.

Blood brother and son to Allen Dulles, moreso to his kill-Castro Operation 40 army mates, training out of Miami, some of them in Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana.

The blood brothers who formed to stop Castro. They thought they would have their president behind them, as Truman and Eisenhower had always been.

But that young, handsome, intelligent Kennedy, with his high-brow background and education.

A fly in the ointment.

“He got us killed and captured in Cuba that day. He is a traitor. Deserves death.”

So, let’s keep paying Operation 40 in Miami, keep training.

Only now, let’s turn those guns against Kennedy on November 22nd, 1963 in Dallas, Texas. The mayor is a friend. His police will help us!

Hoover will help, when he commits to Oswald, and sees what we have on him—and that FBI should have kept a better watch of him. “National Security” will depend on FBI discretion and complicity with our spy community.

We’ll caravan from Miami to Dallas by November 21. A two-car caravan, one with personnel, the other with guns and costumes—just as Marita Lorenz would later say in a court deposition and in her book. (Lorenz Depo Highlights)

We’ll hunker down in our motel, wait for Hunt’s money. Get Ruby his instructions, just as Marita testified…

Then we’ll execute. Kill the man—our national enemy. The traitor Kennedy who had turned on his own CIA!

***

But it doesn’t stop there. The cover-up must be perfect. We’ll hang Oswald. We’ll be in Secret Service and DPD uniforms, directing traffic from the start.

We’ll get Hoover and the Dallas D.A. making statements of Oswald’s guilt immediately.

We will out-voice the Mark Lane’s of the world who call out for constitutional rights and the rule of law, due process and all that horse manure.

We’ll pull out all the Hoover stuff, get journalists on our side—write our own articles, get Hunt to forge a telegram implicating JFK in the murder of the Vietnamese president. (Lane, Plausible Denial, 1991, Thunder’s Mouth Press)

We’ll get National Geographic, Time Life, CBS, RCA’s Military-tied NBC to push out the official story, have our agents and sub-agents go around the world, quell the European certainty of conspiracy.

Many will doubt and object, but we will push our story. Lock up relevant documents for seventy-five years. Burn and misplace stuff.

p.s. Don’t forget to print some gossip about JFK womanizing to keep people from caring about him too much!

—Love, CIA

***

A sad day today.

Remember John F. Kennedy, the greatest voice for peace in the world on the day he was murdered.

Conspiracy is a fact, when you focus on evidence and testimony in this murder case.

Slander and libel is a fact when you read Wikipedia’s Oswald page, calling him a murderer WITHOUT A TRIAL.

Without his fifth and sixth amendment rights in tact.

Wake up, reader! Join the side of right, law and truth!

Start easy and watch Stone’s JFK. Then read Garrison. Then read all of Lane’s first three books. You will be convinced like me, many times over, that CIA murdered our president.

Louisiana district Attorney Jim Garrison called them out first, but after the weekend’s “reporting” it’s clear that NBC news is “sticking to the official story on JFK no matter what.”

With ties to RCA and the U.S. Military, it is no surprise that NBC News is taking the “easy” way to continue its complicity in CIA murder and collusion.

Defending Lee Harvey Oswald through the only means allowed him, New York defense attorney Mark Lane destroyed the FBI/Dallas Police/CIA prosecution. In fact, Lane exposed the post-death slander of Oswald as unconstitutional with both of his two visits to the sham political dance disguised as an “investigation” called the “Warren Commission.”

Damning to the “official report” that patsy Lee Oswald killed JFK with a deficient Italian rifle from a deficient vantage point above and behind the fateful November 22nd, 1963 presidential parade route in Dallas:

1. The first weapon found on the sixth floor of the supposed firing hole, the Texas Book Depository—was a German Mauser, NOT OSWALD’S MAGAZINE-BOUGHT Italian Carcano, a rifle known in Italy as the “gun that lost World War II.”

The weapon was identified as a Mauser by Dallas Police Officer Seymour Weitzman, a gun shop owner knowledgeable enough to along with Officer Roger Craig notice the clear markings “7.65 Mauser” on the gun itself.

Weitzman signed an FBI affidavit to his findings.

FINDINGS THAT WERE DISCARDED WHEN THE FBI DISCOVERED THAT OSWALD OWNED AN ITALIAN CARCANO, NOT A GERMAN MAUSER.

2. Obvious signs from the Zapruder video and witness testimony that gunshots came from in front of the presidential limousine.

Plumes of smoke seen, noise and activity from behind the infamous “grassy knoll:” in front of the motorcade.

Lorenz lays out the Hunt payments, the two-car caravan heading out of Miami and into Dallas, Texas on November 21, the day before the disgusting, cowardly hit.

Lorenz saw Hunt at their motel, doling out the dollars.

She saw a man she later recognized from a TV shot as Jack Ruby—Oswald’s eventual killer—also stopping by the killers’ motel.

Lorenz asked to leave the party when she realized what they were planning, but not before she saw enough to peg Hunt and CIA on the scene.

Testimony Mark Lane used to convince a Miami jury in 1985 that Liberty Lobby’s Spotlight magazine published the truth when their Victor Marchetti, ex-CIA writer, wrote of Hunt and CIA’s involvement in the assassination of the peace-striving president of the United States in 1963.

A libel case CIA and major news outlets like NBC never wanted folks to worry about too much.

CIA has been running this country politically since 1963.

Samuel’s curse, the result of a military coup seen so often in old Europe, that they never believed in garbage spewed out by Hoover’s FBI, the corrupted Dallas Police Department, nor the always diabolical UN/World Peace-thwarting covert CIA.

God said having human kings would bite his people on the butt, and this is the type of thing He or She could have meant.

If NBC and other news outlets would claim to be independent of the ruling U.S. military, they would join this independent poet to denounce CIA as traitors. Murderers. The villains that killed JFK en route to millions in Southeast Asia, Kennedy just casualty number one of fifty some-odd thousand American deaths in the conflict.

Yes… with “motive…” To perpetrate Vietnam, get revenge for Kennedy not providing air support to the Bay of Pigs concoction to overthrow communist Castro—restore a capitalist Cuba for CIA, U.S. interests including Mafia-connected hotel/casino owners.

Get control. Show that n-lover Kennedy who’s boss in the South.

To not allow Kennedy to break up the CIA, as he had publicly promised to do.

For firing Allen Dulles as CIA director—a man in foreign service since before the whipper snapper Avant Garde American president—youngest in history, was even born.

Kennedy also fired the mayor of Dallas’ brother, something that could motivate someone to change a parade route at the last second, inspire a police department to become part of a dark, horrible moment in U.S. history—painted a rainbow by CIA spinsters for years.

And regarding “spinsters,” no one was worse than America’s “James Bond,” Howard E. Hunt—who forged a document after Kennedy’s death that blamed the murdered president for the assassination of a Vietnamese leader.

Mark Lane’s Plausible Denial (Thunder Mouth, 1991) is full of such sins, including a breakdown of Hunt’s failure in the Miami court to explain his whereabouts when Kennedy was killed in Dallas.

Upon the admission, some possibilities
develop, we get some momentum,
actually get some things done—a process
of emptying out to fill, erasing the chalkboard
to learn, preparing the flower bed, like
God’s great empty canvas in the beginning.

We ask for power or strength.

Samuel rises to the peak, asks God directly
for a king “to be like other nations,”
and although a Jewish story, I think it
applies to where we are politically all over
the world. Our kings have let us down, just
as the LORD said they would!!

Peace and those who speak, preach and
take action to secure it—is a dangerous
endeavor. Those who love to war, and send
their kids to the cliché that is college by waging
it: don’t appreciate the simple views espoused
by JFK in ’63, MLK in ’68, RFK in ’68 as well, then
look at John Lennon in the ‘70’s about to ramp
up against Ronald Reagan in 1980.

All murdered at the peak of their Peaceful
message to the world.

Don’t forget Gandhi. He was an enlightened
man, trying to unify his country, tried to speak
the militant Hindu off the cliff of hate, and was
killed for it.

Those names, all of them: the greatest voice
for peace in the world on the day they were
murdered.

For that reason I wrote and performed
a comedy CD once, called “The Second
Most Peaceful Man in the World”—a dark
joke about staying away from the number one
seat, a sure bet to be assassinated brutally.

We are powerless.

Even those men of peace had no real
power beyond their exceptional education
and principles. Somehow they got very large,
and at their largest they were destroyed…

Ideas live forever, if good ones, and so not
all is lost when triggers are pulled and
horrible acts steal our human heroes.

Ideas for peace—call them “states” that
must unite against a climate and pulse always
driving and sometimes so violent!

To know when to step back, breathe and
again admit total powerlessness allows a Power
greater than us to be in the lead, to accept
the cycle of life with grace and turn the other
cheek, to walk away from those who hate
you, dust off your feet like the Prince
of Peace would teach—

is good.

Walk away from the self, take and accept less
stuff, less food, less drink—enough being every
bit as good as a feast, Mary Poppins treats.

Peace is like the great hold-back, the space
between the thought and the act, the realization
that to do nothing is superior to doing something
bad—it all takes training, discipline, and the
ultimate awareness that no matter what we do
or do not do can range in import between
“no change” to Moving a Mountain from there
to here,

if we fast, pray and believe—your water
tasting like wine without the horrible
consequence of altering brain chemistry and
the relationship you try to have with a
jealous God not fond of sharing spotlights
with bottles of flammable liquid sold in stores
and on my TV as “drink.”

There’s nothing like a bit of throw-up in
the morning to help you kick bad habits, a
hangover in a jail cell, push-ups and sit-ups
by the side of the bed having overdosed on
what your father and mother did.

You honor them as best you can, because
you want to live a good, long life—keep the
sabbath day holy if Jewish, and if anyone else:

reserve some days, moments, years to honor
and remember Life and all we didn’t do to
make it happen.

“GOD” could just be Good Orderly Direction
for some, a hoax for others, but he or she
exists because it’s in my dictionary as at
the very least: Concept.

Other ideas for peace came from great
wars. We had the Kellogg-Briand Pact
after World War I that no one followed,
leading to a second war, leading finally
to mass nuclear murder of Jews, Japanese
and so many other of God’s children no
matter what side residing in her seas.

Leading finally to the United Nations and
its proud World Peace charter of 1945,
signed by all “peace-loving nations” in
San Francisco, California—eventually setting
up in New York, USA—the supposed
Victors of World War II setting too many
rules, including:

The indoctrination of covert CIA two years
after the UN was formed, thus thwarting
World Peace covertly.

So often, and go ahead and blame Samuel:
The “United States” of America is not a peace-
loving nation, and should not be permitted
membership in the United Nations.

That we are allowed to host the group is
laughable, the curse God promised Samuel
about kings stealing and being corrupt coming
true in the red, white and blue flag draped over
President John F. Kennedy, murdered by his
own CIA.

Oh, I’m sorry that’s not admitted yet, the CIA
locked up the facts around that, the idea
of “classified” and Top Secret killing “democracy,”
that Greek concept in America too, a joke.

Earl Warren called himself a chief justice, while
he helped Allen Dulles cover murder, “national
security” a euphemism for “job security” amongst
the criminal covert underworld of U.S. war
perpetrators, AKA “the confused.”

I love you.

Don’t get me wrong, and that’s so much “politics”
that I’m apt to lose fans if I keep going there.

We’ve already done religion, so off we go to
see what other buttons are there to push.

Doesn’t sound like a peaceful operation, but
to tell the truth, I was the guy in the basketball
game “taking charges,” finding a weakness in
defenses, exposing them and pointing them out
to win.

And as you do, you make the other guy stronger
the next time.

That is what the drill sergeant does, I think, is
tear down to build back up the military way.

The beef I have with a military that is sometimes
a great example of team, humility and discipline
is that, quite frankly:

They are killers.

I like the sixth commandment, still, that Thou
shalt not kill.

Not ever.

Killing is the most egregious form of judging
your fellow human being. I abstain from
judging to avoid judgment, loving others the
path to heaven so narrowly walked until the
right words find a page, your ears or national
consciousness that widen the road.

“You cannot change the world,” Lao Tzu
keeps buzzing in my ear, but then Wyatt
Earp springs up, a soul committed to action, to
keeping a clean, safe street on which children
and women could walk with their feet.

Helicopters and fireworks do not please the
LORD, I’m convinced, they are loud and causing
the deer and coyote where I live to retreat
so deep into a depleted forest complete that
I can only fight my peaceful fight,

the devil defeat.

*******

God bless the warrior, whose definition of
war is the flower sprouting from the seed.

God bless he or she who stand up to injustice,
who lock arms against the racist taunts,
the sexist remarks, the hatred in the air rising
up to create a moment’s high.

Read the UN Charter with me, raise it high
like lowly Bolivia—the last will be chosen
first, humility is good, America. Following
through on our treaties to native Americans
is good, America. Paying African Americans
a stipend as amends for sin is good, America.

Good is good, the Commandments good. Wisdom
of the ages is good, from Solomon’s Wife of
his Youth to Lao Tzu’s waiting until the mud
settled in the pool to see to the bottom,

make a proper decision.

Love is the golden rule, find it in your
heart, and forgiveness too.

But we are powerless. We are nothing
without inspiration, and that pause that
allows space for prayer and lifting our
thoughts to a higher plain to assure we act
not just from the selfish Freudian id, but for
the highest, greater good

as Adam Smith tried, and John Nash did.

The atheist prays to no one, stands tall in
the flood, blames the levy and that’s okay.

Inherent truths rain down on the ignorant
and enlightened in equal spray, the first
being that words are fictions, never doing

justice to the essence of leaf on pool, the
dance of Spring following a harsh un-ending
swirl around the curls and furls of Winter’s
harsh breath, you’re sure of yourself until
a strange dream takes you somewhere else,

we bellow and yell at each other to change,
nothing and no one changing until close
to the grave we honor a fallen friend by
giving up the thing that we think killed them,

only… no one is dead that strove to spread
even the most benign cell of You, the beginning
of Truth trying to end not war but the disillusion
and ignorance that started it.

The falsehood of men being men by killing and
fighting other men is the same as calling the
boy queer for kissing Dad on the cheek, he
thought he was neat, we must listen to the
real prophets whose words mean something,
survived the ages to tell us something…

Moses, David, Solomon, Jesus, the Tao Te Ching.

Oh, you can close your ears and fight upstream!

You can invent the United Nations of peace while
you steal their wallets, plot to kill and feed the
festering fear of losing all your things!

I love you, even when you can’t do what
you seem to seem, God bless you even in the
godless hate that is a seed to the flame of change—
We will overcome our worst members when
we bow to hear their complaint, take a blow

on the cheek, cry a bit and kiss them back from
the grave of chance, the last dance of the
prophets of peace who were murdered while
their ideas inspired the next dreamer to
advance.

I love Bill Maher without the slicked back
hair, hungover or sick, calling out, we’d change
his diapers, get him water and wash his feet.

He rails at the Christian hearts that beat, and
we understand, because most of us too used
to engage in hate.

We want you in our army, Bill, and any other
soldier in heat, those convinced God is a made-up
game for adults to console themselves about
not being able to compete.

We laugh until the pot runs out, and there’s
a real lull and time to think.

We can live until we are abandoned at the
home, getting changed by strangers, or…

study the way of the 800-year old Jewish
man being “gathered to his people,” a glorious
send-off of “Thanks, Dad!” “Thanks, Grandpa!!”

Thank you for all that you did and do, you
will always be here in us and in our hearts,
we let you go, and you must trust us to
keep your dream alive.

And the old man dies, not a sad good-bye, but
more like a winning sacrament completed,
a perfect game thrown before the field is
for the storm upcoming sheeted, we call
it all kinds of disease and names, but so many
just living as zombies past their call to go,

hospitals getting rich instead of counseling
family members to whether alone or with
a minister bring out the red carpet toward
heaven and watch their greyed loved one
walk upon it, away from us to God.

Dying is living, the best part of us lives
forever, if that Mrs. Chickian effort we made,
if that John Woodenian peace of mind we
achieve, knowing we did our very best…

Whether with words, deeds or actions or
all three, the road to the United States of
Peace goes through your own little heart.

The focus there, the heart that cares, we have
a chance to spread your own version of
God both here and there.

I like to walk instead of driving,
look for solutions to today’s problems
in the rear view mirror of books,
hardbacks often hard to find but worth
the struggle.

We seek and find, ask and receive—if
earnest and caring, but so much depends
upon grace or luck, there’s a back and
forth play at work between effort, love
and achievement.

The wide path to destruction might always
just be a fact, the narrow to redemption
and heaven just there was well, Jesus a
“great”—but don’t call him a “good” teacher
unless you want a reprimand.

“You cannot change the world” said Lao Tzu,
“It cannot be done,” is so wise, and yet it
is the human way to try, try, try—for what
else is there really to do but try and be the best
we can be.

“To make an effort” was the reason for
being alive, according to Charles Dickens’
Mrs. Chick, a cool character in Dombey and Son, which was really about Dombey
and Daughter.

Irony is the bitter pill, sometimes sweet,
like that black hole though—it depends
where you are standing when observing,
it’s all relative like the Water Line drawn
again after a storm.

You wonder if they’ll keep building under
it, or will they learn to respect the force
of nature that wrecks the coast, build
up and back from the shore, deny ourselves
beauty for safety’s sake, use the lessons
we learn from history.

CIA killed JFK, we still didn’t black people
enough pay, and the natives we pushed
off their land so we could frankly: steal
it for apparent gold, and the subtle peace
of segregation and walls.

Something there is that doesn’t love a
fire hose, children in a Birmingham street,
Gandhi grabbing salt from his own beach,
oil pipelines crashing into native American
drum beats.

It would just be neat, if the wide path narrowed,
the narrow widened—which is the exact
reason to get up in the morning and write
a poem, I guess. Something there is, Robert
Frost on my window.

I look back, try not to get hit in the front,
try to remind us about Samuel’s request for
a king, the corruption that would come
from men ruling over men—it’s still here,
but that’s the world.

We believe what we want to believe, change
walking in bearing five senses if aware you
catch them; driving fast in a metal box you
might miss the message of a cross, and eating,
eating you miss

what the fast was trying to teach, take less
at the buffet, by bread alone man does not
eat, but from every word God speaks, the real
treat is peace of mind following your best
sober day ever.

Every reach is seen and counted, your every
hair a part of universe fabric as it bends to
accept planets and balls, spinning and moving
like sex parts or Niagara Falls, the Earth certainly
alive and well.

Sometimes it’s too hot, sometimes the wind
blows telling us we are not in control,
and scientists insist the temperature is rising
over time in response to irresponsible burning
and human waste.

I am no one to argue with career professionals
minus those who keep killing Kennedy with
every tweet on social media, all of us looking
to November every four years as the Mecca
of potential change.

I prefer to bend with every four months, a new
natural season unfolding seemingly more
powerful where I live than a stated political
goal unfurling in the calm, frantic waters of
history so deep—

So jump in, measure the place where we sank
after the swim, then don’t build buildings anymore
below the mark, so we don’t have to after a
hurricane do this all over again, same with
murdered presidents.

Keep score, mark what CIA said when they
blocked this, or hid this document, hold
each other accountable—don’t let the norm
be the bearer of false witnessing before a
court still reeling,

from the truth behind an M-16 waiting, we
dare you to look, intimidation sometimes
amuck, too much pressure mounting until
whoops!! The dang levee broke, “We have
to fix it today!!!”

Maybe. Or maybe wait, take deep breaths,
and hike up the marsh until it’s dry as a bone,
build there. Look at CIA in the eye, give them
all a hug, and say, “There, there. It’s okay
to lie, and steal,

if you admit the sin, try to never do it again.”
And murder… sixth on the commandment
list of ten: admit, accept, and take the action
of change away from old habits, make a decision—
declare victory!

Come back to God, honor your parents whether
they were nice to you or not, they did their best.
Honor the Sabbath day, and keep Something holy!
Believe in a Power greater than you, keep
Something holy!!

Ask for Wisdom, like Solomon did, erect
your life strong and bright—just smart and
right! Start by keeping an eye on the past
and what it teaches so fine; start by building
above the line.

I love life, God—call it what you will,
a mysterious mission to maximize five
senses on our way to a sixth called
peace of mind.

We are political, or not, to the exact
extent politics affects us.

I wanted Reagan to win in 1980 against
Carter, had my reasons, was ready to vote—
they said “Go away, you’re only eight years
old” so I went away until I was eighteen
and “legal” by a discriminatory Constitution.

By then I was drinking alcohol underage
for years, saying “F politics, and you.”

I didn’t care for a while until Saddam invaded
Kuwait, then Bush Sr. lit up the sky with war.

I was all for it, put your body into it, go
get’em armed forces, I mean my uncle was
working for Bush as Secretary of Energy at the
time—a former Chief of Naval Operations.

Breaking the law is political too, and I had been
breaking the law since five on Dad’s lap,
I drank his last sip of bourbon and water.

That put a devil in my life, and murder—among
other things, was okay—so killing Iraqis and war
was just fine with me…

Until I got saved at Betty Ford Center, named after
a president’s wife, I started to find a God that
worked for me, centered in Truth, expression of
it, and the end of fear.

My politics began to change, and as peace came
into my life, non-violence respected, war became
the anti-Christ it always was, but now I saw it.

War no longer served me, unless you go by one
definition of “war” I heard once:

“War is the journey of a seed becoming a flower.”

There’s another, even an opposite way to seeing
all things and matters.

Our political feelings are dormant until something
we love is taken away, or we get annoyed or
offended by a politician or his or her political
act or decree.

I have left Los Angeles, California in search of meaning, poetic justice—taking my sins east someday across the ocean back to Europe.

I have decided to pass through beautiful Livingston, Montana for a year or two to gain a different experience, to become a man, prepare for England’s colder weather, and to get some financial standing.

410 years ago three Watkins brothers arrived in the land we now call Virginia—a land that was inhabited by a great people. We, the English, named it what we wanted and called it ours.

We measured ourselves against the natives by skin color, dress and military weapons—saw an “advantage,” sought to conquer.

Our sins are vast. Sins of judgment, murder, selfishness, ingratitude, ignorance, and self-righteousness. Sure, we were chased there by religious wars, oppressive social structures and monarchy.

But also greed. Vanity; the desire for fame and glory, riches—gold and spices.

A name to place in history as the man or men who discovered a new land or route around the world.

Notice no mention of “God” yet. While our explorers spoke of “mission” and Bible and bringing God to the New World, our actions were GodLESS.

We lived by the gun and sword. Died by it. So many of us throughout history to now just on that Jesus-mentioned “wide path to destruction.”

Lao Tzu said “You cannot change the world. It cannot be done.”

So why write a piece like this? Why leave Los Angeles?

Why come to Montana, en route to Wales, United Kingdom—home of the Watkins family that stayed in Europe?

Meaning.

For this poet, meaning… For the world, this poet sets out with the gift God directly gave to drive truth into the wide path.

To split that path, and light the trail back to Heaven’s narrow road.

If I believe through fast and prayer that I may move a mountain from there to here, it shall be done.

If I know CIA killed JFK, then covered up the crime—I shall say so, demand truth, and move on to other dark chapters, light them with alacrity.

If I am sure that we owe amends to anyone related to American SLAVES, I shall write that fact—and push us to truth, action and needed reparations.

Hurting others is hurting ourselves. Killing off Native America, is killing off Nature in this land.

We must stop, restore land to the Native peoples “won” through bloodshed, threats and broken promises—bring Karma back to the land…

The Great Spirit, often forgotten from big cities to the hearts of reservations—sad with despondent reservation, alcohol, depression—will and must rise again.

The Great Spirit will rise when the Native American people rise again, and the land will prosper.

A Third Political party will emerge. One of peace and love for Mother Earth.

But first I must remove myself back to England. Back across the sea, and take our sins with me.

I do so for the Cherokee. For the Sioux. For the Crow, the Blackfoot, the Tongva out west—all the tribes, together must rise as I leave with God’s spirit East from here to the land of the Celts.

I will take back, finally, the land’s Gold:

Native American Wisdom and Love for Land.

Europe will thrive when I bring this gold back to them.

And meaning will come to me, a life poetic that gave up comfort to honor God.

The term “Classified” came from “Classified Top Secret” or “Classified Secret” or “Classified Confidential” but over time was shortened to simply “Classified.” (Reddit.com)

It’s a problem when words get shortened, phrases economized over time—when we forget their origins.

Keeping “secrets” is undemocratic; does not jibe with “rule by the people,” when the people are not told the truth by leaders.

The shortening of “Classified Top Secret” to “Classified” allows a slow and steady murder of democratic ideals, regarding information and its availability to Joe Public.

“We’re not going to say ‘secret’ anymore, we are going to use the word ‘classified,’ put that one over the people. Then of course relate to them that the matter needs to stay a secret in the interest of…”

NATIONAL SECURITY.

And now the world of fascist euphemism runs wild; “national security” covering all nature of secrets and sin, justifying say… the murder of John F. Kennedy by CIA as a matter of National Security.

Documents related to that matter kept secret for over fifty-three years, originally meant to be stored in a secret vault for seventy-five years.

We don’t have a democracy in America, people. It is gone.

It left the minute CIA killed John Kennedy, and locked up all proof around that.

Wake up, demand the truth, and pray to the God we’ve crucified as political and religious.

When I see lies hurt left and right,
Across party lines equally,
I like to think my president didn’t make them.
But making lies isn’t bad enough—
You have to Act. Often you must have
Seen DJT’s lies loaded with blaming
Others and advancing his bank account.
They click against each other on Twitter,
One lie after another getting in line
To be the next lie to drive the news story.
Michael Scherer of Time set to interview
The guy about “truth” and “lies,” a lo and
Behold: Devin Nunes is running around the
White House lawn spreading more lies,
Like Easter eggs to spoil the kids a day after
Easter. You may see lies arching in and under
Old tweets: one says we should not involve
Ourselves in Syria from years ago, surfacing
As 59 missiles are sent to explode an airport
There. “Who knew health care was so
Complicated?” was such a true statement in the
Form of a question from a gentleman whose
Lack of education and political experience is
Worn as a badge of dishonor, day after day
In the face of p-hats yelling injustice
And sexism. “Locker room talk” brings
Chaffetz and others back into the fold
In time to rally the vote in 2016, Jared
“Playing Moneyball” with American votes,
Winning always the goal, not helping
The country with good legislation.
Winning, helping Russia—Trump’s apparent
Leading creditor, growing Ivanka’s brand,
Extending Trump family reach, helping
Russia, helping Russia, helping Russia.
And Turkey, Le Pen—anyone who shows
A strong hand and an antiquated nationalist
View. Kick out immigrants, purify the race,
Build a wall and put it all in Barack Obama’s
Soulful, smiling face. Tear Hillary down like
Someone who never had a mother.
Fuck you, Donald Trump, and all your
Ignorant hillbilly fans. God bless us to a
Proper disclosure of your lies, your certain ouster,
And the restoration of dishonest business as usual
In Washington. We need to pay our debts—the twenty
trillion dollars, the promises we made to
Native American tribes, reparations for
African Americans who descend from unwilling,
Sinful slavery—
And could we kill covert CIA, bring John
F. Kennedy’s murderers to justice, tell the Truth
About All our Sins? Re-open RFK, MLK,
The bullshit Chapman murder of Lennon with
Clear political pro-Reagan cold war motives.
“Earth is the right place for love,” Frost had
Something there. “I don’t know where it’s
Likely to go better.” Indeed. I wish loud
Helicopter pilots would read that line,
And I guess that’s my Truth, spoon-fed in
Frostian lines to remind us all:
It’s not where you start, it’s where you
Wanna go that’s important. Dream and do,
But do not do anything over doing something bad.
And do not say anything, over saying
Something untrue—especially from the Oval
Office in Washington.
One could do worse than be Donald Trump,
If he wisens up and clears out of
Politics before he winds up in jail…
And us? May we pay all our debts, and
Invite the Indian back to the table they
Helped us to set.

A group committed to revenge for the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and Kennedy’s lack of air support to that CIA failed mission.

Killing JFK to them also seemed the only chance for escalation in Vietnam, continuance of a kill Castro program, a possible calming down of liberal de-segregation policies and peaceful globalism.

Finally, war of course meant money to CIA and military personnel they controlled.

That control was a creeping death, unleashed by Truman in 1947, two years after a beautiful peace document was signed by the United Nations in San Francisco to hopefully avoid all wars.

From the CIA site:

FIt. Admr. William D. Leahy:

January 24, 1946: “At lunch today in the White House, with only members of the Staff present, RAdm. Sidney Souers and I were presented [by President Truman] with black cloaks, black hats, and wooden daggers, and the President read an amusing directive to us outlining some of our duties in the Central Intelligence Agency [sic], Cloak and Dagger Group of Snoopers.”

Nobody laughed in Guatemala when Howard Hunt and other CIA spooks perpetrated a covert propaganda campaign to influence the 1954 election.

Hunt’s “psychological warfare” helped lead a “near bloodless” revolt and coup to install the CIA’s favorite dictator du jour, to be replaced later by a “democratic election.” (Hunt v. Liberty Lobby, 1985)

Sound familiar?

Wherever there was communism, socialism or any “ism” uncomfortable to CIA and American capitalist expansion, there was the CIA operating with their apparent blank check covert cloaks and daggers.

El Salvador and Vietnam would be future targets of CIA manipulation, BUT NOT UNTIL KENNEDY WAS KILLED. Kennedy was a fly in their poison, so they geared up Operation 40’s “kill Castro” objective to turn on JFK.

According to credible, life-risking Marita Lorenz testimony, a CIA murder caravan left Miami for Dallas before November 21, 1963.

Guns in cars, disguises, cover as policemen and secret service officers, trained to kill Castro. How hard would Kennedy be to snuff out in ex-Deputy CIA director Charles Cabell’s neck of the woods? His brother Earle was the Dallas mayor at the time.

Cabell was “ex”-Deputy CIA director because Kennedy fired him after the Bay of Pigs disaster.

Motive abound, the CIA—at least a part of it, moved in on JFK, who had expressed his desire to dismantle the covert cloak and dagger boys, saying “I will splinter the CIA into a thousand pieces and scatter it into the wind” a month before his death.

Murder. 11-22-63.

Then a bogus LBJ-instigated Warren Commission began to “investigate,” led by Allen Dulles, the CIA Directorfired by Kennedy after Bay of Pigs.

Cover-up. Propaganda. CIA specialties went into effect. Still are.

“Oswald did it.” “Kennedy was a bad guy.” “He was a womanizer.”

Gossip, innuendo, without fact.

“As long as they get distracted or forget.”

“Look at Trump!!!”

“Look at Russia!!!”

Yes. Yes.

First, let’s look at CIA. Then go back to slavery. Then go back to Native America.

Not ready to strike right away, because assassinations take planning—JFK’s enemies waited for the right time.

JFK fired CIA director Allen Dulles and his deputy, General Charles Cabell, over the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Dulles, the single most influential “spy” in history, involved with American foreign service since World War I—ousted just like that.

Deputy Cabell, also let go, had a brother in a high place that could come into play at a later date: his brother Earle was the mayor of Dallas.

***

Well, off Kennedy goes. His part in the Bay of Pigs was an immense learning experience that shaped his final two years. He began to tear apart the CIA, promised to pull out of Vietnam, began to reach out to the Soviet Union—achieving a nuclear test ban treaty.

But not until after the Cuban Missile Crisis, an event that further informed the new JFK policy direction so despised by the CIA and U.S. military cold war establishment:

Peace at all costs, diplomacy at all costs—wait things out, be patient, and make brothers and friends out of the world, not enemies.

***

Enemies give military and covert CIA operatives their jobs and money. Think of NBC’s RCA and all those military contracts.

Food on the table for the war machinists. And Kennedy planned to take this away from them.

Well, every fire needs a spark, and hot and sultry New Orleans seemed to provide it. Talk, planning and collusion—call it conspiracy, became rampant and contagious among U.S. Intelligence operators there according to New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison’s research.

And in the Miami area:

Operation 40 training sites flourished—the same ones involved with the Bay of Pigs, even George “41” Bush and his gun-running CIA outpost, “Zapata Oil” off the coast of Cuba. His gun transport boat, “The Barbara,” a cold war cover only Yale’s Skull and Bones brothers could appreciate.

Hot, well-trained, racist, frustrated by JFK’s refusal to kill Castro, his promises for peace in Russia and Vietnam, his reaching out to Martin Luther King and the desegregation movement—constantly thwarting and ignoring military and intelligence advisers after the Bay of Pigs, the killers planned:

TO KILL THE PRESIDENT ON HIS TRIP TO DALLAS on NOVEMBER 22nd. Ex-CIA deputy Charles Cabell’s brother, Dallas Mayor Earle Cabell, was available to help, and Dallas authorities with a knack for being a “part of history”—albeit a violent part, would surely be willing to contribute.

According to former Castro lover and CIA operative Marita Lorenz, a two-car caravan headed west out of Miami with weapons in the second car on November 21.

Howard Hunt of Watergate fame arrived in Dallas on the 21st to meet the caravan, finalize plans and dole out money, also according to Lorenz testimony.

Lorenz, who risked her life to tell her story, further testified that Oswald’s eventual killer, Jack Ruby, stopped by the assassins’ motel in Dallas on the 21st. Marita herself split the scene, knowing what these men were about to do; she went back to her child in Miami. But when Ruby’s photo was widely published after he killed Oswald, she knew…

***

Death. Murder. A man, president, father, husband—murdered gruesomely in front of his wife. The fence above the grassy knoll rocking with fire and plumes of smoke. Eighty percent of all Dealey Plaza witnesses see and hear more gunfire from the knoll than from the Book Depository, where Oswald was according to the official government story supposed to be wreaking precise and devastating terror from the 6th floor window with a defective rifle.

Oswald is caught watching a movie later in the day, a patsy set up for years since Bay of Pigs. A poor marksman according to nine out of ten of his Marine mates. His gun the worst possible rifle for precision—laughed at in Italy as the gun that “lost the War.”

Oswald failed the nitrate test, proving that he did not even shoot a rifle that day; and the first rifle found in the Depository was a German Mauser—unrelated in any way to Lee and his Italian carbine.

Yet the FBI presents to the Warren Commission, formed by coup victor LBJ to investigate and report on the assassination, their conclusion that “Oswald, and Oswald alone, killed JFK.”

With a bad rifle from a bad, partially obstructed position, miraculously creating frontal wounds from behind the victim. He murders Officer Tippit while escaping, they go on to frame. A lone communist nut.

President Johnson, the big Coup of 1963 “winner,” headed to brand new policies and a complete change in direction away from peace and deeper than ever into Cold War.

Johnson escalated Vietnam, revoking JFK’s commitment to de-escalation. Defeating the Soviets replaced Kennedy’s dialogue toward resolution and peace. Castro and Cuba were squeezed with sanctions after a time under Kennedy that showed a potential for friendship according to French reporter, Jean Daniel.

The Cold War was back on, with CIA in true control of the American Government.

Here is a photograph of LBJ winning the presidency through CIA murder, winking to Texas Congressman Al Thomas, back left:

Never mind Jackie’s tears or her future Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from seeing her husband brutally murdered by her own government spies.

***

The Warren Commission overseen by Warren, led by Kennedy-fired Allen Dulles, was supposed to investigate and report on Kennedy’s murder and surrounding crimes.

It was instead a large-scale prosecution of the late Lee Harvey Oswald without a defense, violating the 6th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.